


Backseat of an '81 Beemer

by azarias



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 80s hair, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, assholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 20:22:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12755538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azarias/pseuds/azarias
Summary: Billy Hargrove is an asshole.Billy Hargrove sucks dick like a hoover.Billy Hargrove has stupid, soft hair.All of this is somehow Steve's problem.





	Backseat of an '81 Beemer

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place in the spring of 1985, with Steve and Billy in their last semester of high school. I don't think canon gives their exact ages, so I'm just going to assume they're both 18.
> 
> Thanks again to Rahne for the beta!

Steve would have to kick a whole lot of asses if it got out, but the truth was, only two people had ever put their mouths on his dick. The first was Nancy, and Steve was still surprised that she'd done it. Yeah, he'd asked real nice and he'd eaten her pussy first, but girls smelled a lot better than guys did. Steve had to figure they tasted a lot better, too. Eating a girl out wasn't a chore. 

Dick, though. If you sucked someone's dick, you were doing him a _favor_ , and Steve was still getting used to the idea that there were people who'd do it for him. 

It turned out the second person to suck Steve's dick was Billy Hargrove. Steve hadn't even had to ask.

Billy's head bobbed above Steve's crotch, his cheeks hollow, teeth out of the way, spit running down Steve's cock and over Billy's fist. Billy couldn't fit it all in his mouth, or didn't want to try. Made Steve feel pretty fuckin' good about himself, yeah. 

" _Shit_ ," Steve said. "You - that -" What did you _say_ to someone you didn't fucking like, who you'd figured you were gonna have to fight again, when he had his face in your crotch and all the blood your brain needed was heading for your dick? 

Steve squeezed his fingers into the leather of his car's back seat. His jeans were halfway down his legs, seams of the seat digging into his butt, and his balls and dick were hot, wet with Billy's mouth and Steve's own come welling up, getting ready. Everywhere else he was cold; it was March and winter was still hanging on in Indiana by its fingernails.

He'd turned off the engine when he'd parked the car. He'd thought about going for a walk in the woods. Been doing that a lot lately, and never mind the weather. There were only a couple months left of high school and there was something under his skin, itching, like it was about to burst out.

Wait, no, don't put it that way. Not in this town. Absolutely fucking nothing was trying to rip through Steve Harrington's skin right now and he liked it that way.

Billy was just trying to suck his brain out through his dick, and that wasn't bad at all.

Billy hadn't looked at him once since he'd started, not since he'd shoved Steve into the open back seat of Steve's car and dropped to his knees on the gravel. Right now, his eyes were half-lidded, his expression focused, mouth wrapped tight around Steve's cock, and his hair was falling down across Steve's bare thighs. It was soft, that hair, springy and smooth. It tickled. Steve wanted to touch it.

Steve wasn't very smart, so he did. Brushed the back of his knuckles down one loose curl, and it was just as soft as it looked, sleek and shiny. And Billy didn't immediately bite his dick off, so that was good. That was really good, and Steve turned his hand so that Billy's hair was in his palm and he sunk his fingers into a thick hank of it, all the way down to the scalp. It was like petting the neighbor's dog, a big stupid sheepdog that loved _everybody_. That dog wouldn't know what to do with a sheep if one started humping it. And _Billy_ leaned into Steve's hand. 

Billy's eyes squeezed closed, so tight it looked painful. Billy's tongue rubbed against the head of Steve's dick _hard_ , like he was trying to pull something out. The tip of his tongue tripped over the ridge where the fat head of Steve's dick turned into the shaft. His hand was a tight hole, and Steve wanted to fuck it so bad, but his feet were dangling behind Billy's shoulders and he couldn't get the leverage to thrust. Couldn't get it together to move. He was losing his god damned _mind_. 

His hands squeezed hard, one on the leather seat and the other buried in Billy's hair, too damned tight, but Billy fucking _moaned_ and pushed his own head down, pushed his lips down Steve's cock and sucked and sucked and _sucked_ while Steve's hips jerked and his balls clenched up and he came in Billy's mouth. Over his tongue. And Billy lapped it up, his spit and Steve's come. Right there, where Steve could see it.

Steve flopped back on the seat, his legs kind of falling off Billy's shoulders on their own. The ceiling of his car was a really stupid color. He was gonna stare at it for a while.

Now'd be a good time to kill him. You know, if that was what Billy wanted to do.

There wasn't a lot of noise. Just breathing and the soft shushing grinding sound of gravel shifting. The air in the car had gotten cold enough Steve could see his breath. His sweat, too. He was steaming. Could barely feel the cold. Too warm all over, loose and relaxed. His crotch felt wet, and that should've been gross but it wasn't.

Billy wasn't trying to kill him.

Blinking, Steve raised himself up on his elbows, looking down his body and out the door at Billy. Billy was right where Steve had left him, kneeling there between Steve's legs, his head bowed and his eyes closed tight, like he was in church. Steve couldn't see his hands, but they weren't moving. Wasn't he going to jerk himself off?

Steve's dick lay there between them, against Steve's thigh, sticky and exhausted. He couldn't look at Billy without seeing his own dick and the traces of come it'd left on Billy's lips.

After a minute, he asked, "Um, want me to jerk you off?"

It was the decent thing to do.

Billy's head snapped up, his eyes opening, going wide. _Startled_. His mouth dropped open and his tongue swiped across his bottom lip. Steve's eyes followed it, not even thinking. Then Billy surged to his feet and Steve's survival instincts kicked in. He wriggled out of the car, to his own feet, grabbing at his jeans and fumbling them back up over his ass while he tried to keep an eye on Billy and Billy's fists, and it was probably a miracle he didn't get his dick caught in the zipper. Billy was glaring at him, fists curled and raised halfway in front of him, but he hadn't wiped his mouth. It was still wet where he'd licked it.

"If you tell anybody, I'm gonna fucking kill you," Billy snarled, and, hell, that was good. That was familiar. They were back on solid ground. Steve's legs were still kind of trembling, but he could deal with that.

Deliberately, Steve leaned back against his car, flinging his arm over the open door. "Yeah, sure," he drawled, "you threatened to kill me for taking the last ranch dressing in the cafeteria." Also, Billy was shit scared of his thirteen year old stepsister — who was a badass, to be fair, but still, thirteen — but it felt wrong for Steve to say that to someone whose mouth he had just jizzed in. Threats were one thing. Reminding Billy about that time a little girl kicked his ass was way too harsh.

True, Steve was pretty sure Billy had meant to put him in the hospital, that night at the Byers house. It'd probably bug Steve more if he hadn't had been in the middle of fighting people-eating demon dogs from another, really shitty dimension. Getting beat down by a normal human asshole had been kind of a nice break from the stress, all things considered. No harm, no foul.

And whatever the fuck had made Billy decide to pull Steve's dick out of his pants and go to town on it today, he was really good at it.

"You think you're some kinda hot shit?" Billy asked. He was bouncing on his toes, his hands clenching and unclenching, but he wasn't coming closer. Wasn't backing away, either. "You and those little queers you hang around with? Think tugging each other's dicks while you wait for the aliens to come pick you up makes you tough?"

 _Really?_ Steve looked at Billy, and looked at his crotch, where he was _fucking hard_. Look, Steve'd seen him in the shower. Billy had a big dick, and it was tenting his jeans because he'd sucked Steve off. And Billy was gonna cop an attitude about someone being queer?

Billy was fucking weird. Fortunately, Steve's toes were still tingling and his balls were empty, and he was filled with a great love for humanity. Even Billy Fucking Hargrove. Steve shook his head and just smiled. "Actually," he said, "we fight demons. Or monsters, whatever you want to call them. Haven't met any aliens, but hell, maybe. Not ghosts, though. Pretty sure those don't exist. There's this psychic kid, like in that movie, _Carrie_? Lives out in the woods. Real weird."

Billy blinked at him, stupefied. 

Steve waved his hand, taking in all of Billy and flicking it away. "Truth is, the shit you do, the stuff that makes you tough? It's small potatoes in this town. So, no, I'm not gonna tell anyone you sucked my dick, _William_. I've got bigger things to worry about." He looked at Billy's crotch again, real slow and obvious this time. "And so do you."

Billy backed away, and said, "You're fucking crazy, Harrington. Fucking _crazy_ ," and kept backing up 'til he got to his own car. The engine roared and Billy peeled out of the gravel.

Steve flopped back into the seat and laughed and laughed and laughed. Fucking crazy was treating him pretty good.


End file.
